12 Days of Christmas with Captain Swan
by bravebuttercups
Summary: Countdown to Christmas with 12 Captain Swan fics, all with a different theme.
1. Chapter 1

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…_A Pirate in a Pine Tree_

"You know, Swan, the concepts of Christmas and gift giving make sense to me, but I still do not understand the need for a bloody tree that leaves its needles all over the living room."

Emma laughed and patted Killian's arm. "Killian, it's just what you do. You get a tree for Christmas and decorate it with ornaments, and you put the star on the very top and all of the presents go under. It's tradition."

"You're not the one carrying this wretched thing," Killian grumbled, shifting the tree he was carrying so that it wouldn't put as much of a burden on his shoulder. It was the smallest tree they could find in the lot, but Emma guessed that it would barely fit through their apartment door. Normally she would have tried to magically shrink it, but her magic had been going haywire lately and she wanted to have a nice, intact tree for their first Christmas together.

"We're almost home," Emma said, rolling her eyes at Killian's _woe is me _expression. As much as he complained, Emma knew that he was excited to turn their apartment into a winter wonderland. When they had gone shopping for decorations, Emma's plan was to grab a variety pack of ornaments and tinsel and call it good, but Killian had other ideas. He had spent nearly an hour looking at all of the choices the store had to offer, and had put two more packages of ornaments in the basket.

Emma had never liked Christmas growing up. When she was in a foster home, she could never really expect a present, and most of the time she didn't stick around long enough to spend Christmas with the family anyway. The only time she could remember enjoying Christmas was when she was three and with the Swan family. They had given her a teddy bear and a coloring book and multiple hugs throughout the day, and it was more than she could have ever asked for. For years, though, Emma disliked Christmas as much as she disliked her birthday. Those occasions were only reminders that she was alone in the world. She had fake memories of spending every single Christmas with Henry, and while she treasured those, she wanted to have real, good memories of the holiday.

Her first memory would be of her pirate with his head in the pine tree.

Emma couldn't help but snort when the tree rolled a little, Killian's head getting caught in between two branches. She managed to snap a picture of him in that position with her phone (she'd have to send it to David later) before he freed himself, looking highly offended as she continued to laugh.

"I didn't know my suffering was so amusing to you," Killian sniffed, and tried to look dignified despite all of the pine needles scattered in his hair.

"Sorry," Emma said, grinning at him as she unlocked the door to their apartment. "I'll make it up to you later." She reached up and pressed a kiss to Killian's nose, holding the door open for him so he could go through with the tree.

"I've no doubt you will," Killian replied, looking back at Emma with a smirk that she matched as she closed the door behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

_Two Matching Santa Hats_

Emma was half asleep when she heard the apartment door slam shut, followed by the sound of her son tripping over the coat rack (which shouldn't have happened seven months after they moved to their new place, really). She blinked awake enough to roll her eyes and sit up a little on the couch, causing the pirate she was laying on top of to groan and tighten his grip on her waist.

"Hey, kid, how was Regina's?"

Henry sat down in the recliner (him and Killian had both insisted that it was necessary when they were shopping at IKEA in a nearby town) and dropped his backpack on the floor. "It was good. Fun. She was baking for half the morning, which was the best part, but she made me go with her to get a Christmas tree and I had to hang up the lights," Henry said, scrunching his nose up a bit at the last part. "We should start decorating, Mom. It's already December. Grandma and Grandpa already have presents under their tree."

"That's because both of them go completely overboard with everything, and they're determined to make your uncle's first Christmas as great and Santa-filled as possible," Emma replied, reclining back against Killian and pulling the blanket up higher around them.

"What the bloody hell is a Santa?" Killian asked, his bemused expression growing as both Emma and Henry stared at him incredulously.

"First no Christmas, then no Santa? I would hate to grow up where you're from, Killian." Upon discovering that Christmas wasn't celebrated in the Enchanted Forest, Henry had taken it upon himself to inform everyone in Storybrooke about the holiday, not forgetting to mention that presents were given to anyone you considered remotely special in your life (and that he considered them all very dear friends).

Killian had embraced Christmas and all its traditions wholeheartedly, and the first time Emma had caught him and Henry whispering in the kitchen after she came home from the sheriff station, she had dismissed it. When they started to nudge each other whenever a magazine showed up in the mail with things she could possibly want, she had snorted and told them to at least try and be discreet.

They had been failing miserably.

"Is a Santa some kind of treat?"

Killian was a sponge, and was determined to learn as much about the new world he was living in as possible. Some days he came home from the library, arms laden with books, and others he spent watching TV, alternating between HGTV and reality shows (she was trying to convince him that The Real Housewives of Orange County was not actual reality, but he was having none of it). He often surprised Emma with how much he knew, and deep down she knew that all the effort he was making was to assure her that he was going nowhere, so she answered his questions as best as she could.

"No, Santa is kind of like a mythical figure. His whole persona or whatever started with the story of St. Nicholas, who would give gifts to people he thought deserved them on Christmas day. Santa Claus is a good guy who delivers presents to every kid in the world, but he has a list of who's naughty or nice, and he only gives the nice kids presents. The kids on the naughty list get coal. But yeah, he's fat and jolly and wears his Santa suit and hat, and he's got flying reindeer that pull his sleigh – "

"'Flying reindeer'? What sort of abomination is that?" Killian asked, arching his eyebrows as Emma struggled to explain and finally gave up.

"Seriously? You come from a land where there are all sorts of magic and portals and fairy godmothers, and you're questioning the flying reindeer?" Emma retorted. She was more than a little surprised that Henry had stayed quiet all that time, because she doubted that any other person in town knew as much about Santa as he did, but when she glanced at him, he was on his phone, not at all paying attention to the conversation she was having with Killian.

"So, Swan, have you ever met this Santa?" Killian nudged her cheek with his nose and pressed a kiss to her jaw. "Were you on the naughty or nice list?" Emma could feel him smirking against her skin and shifted, her elbow (accidentally) digging into his ribs.

"Santa's not real. Parents tell their kids about him so that they'll behave all year, because Santa can see what they're doing any time he wants."

"Rather intrusive fellow, isn't he?"

Emma chuckled and got up from the couch. "Yeah, but he means well."

* * *

><p>The next day, Christmas had arrived at the Swan (and Jones) apartment. Emma, Killian, and Henry had gone together to get the best tree Storybrooke had to offer, and had hung ornaments while listening to Christmas songs and eating gingerbread that Regina had brought over. The fireplace had stockings hanging in front of it, tinsel lining the mantel, and the entire loft smelled like pine. Emma had never had a real Christmas, one with the festivities and decorations and family and presents, and she wanted this one to be different.<p>

They had even gotten matching sweaters.

Killian was a willing participant in everything Emma and Henry wanted to do. He understood very little of the strange traditions that went along with Christmas, but he did understand that it made the two most important people to him happy, and that was all he needed to know. When Henry burst into the living room with his hands behind his back, Killian didn't question it.

"Whatcha got there, kid?" Emma asked, coming around the corner with presents for her parents and brother, already wrapped and topped with bows.

Henry grinned and revealed his surprise. "I got you guys matching hats to go with your sweaters!" He walked up to Emma and tugged the Santa hat down on her head, then went to Killian and did the same. "I've got to take a picture of this."

He made them pose by the tree, arms around each other and identical goofy grins gracing their features as they hit each other in the face with the pompoms attached to their hats over and over again. Henry managed to capture a picture of Emma laughing in mid swing of her pompom, Killian smiling at her even as he held up his hand to avoid getting smacked in the cheek again. Henry rolled his eyes and said that even though he was the teenager, they were the kids.

They framed the picture.


	3. Chapter 3

_Three Sneak Attacks With Mistletoe_

The first time, it was cute.

Killian had been extremely confused when, at Sunday night dinner, Mary Margaret and David had suddenly stopped under the archway of the hallway and kissed each other in front of the _entire_ family. He hadn't understood why the sprig of green leaves hanging from the frame was significant, or why it meant that whoever passed under the mistletoe had to kiss the next person to follow. Even when everyone had tried explaining (Regina included), Killian still couldn't comprehend what a plant had to do with kissing anyone.

That didn't stop him from trying to get in on the tradition.

He had been waiting for Emma when she got home one day. As soon as he heard the sound of her keys opening the apartment, he had grabbed his mistletoe, hanging from a string, and held it over her head as soon as she had stepped inside the door. She had laughed and kissed him on the nose for his efforts before telling him to help her put the groceries away.

The second time, it was kind of gross.

Emma had answered an emergency call in the snow and hadn't had the time to put on her coat or hat, and had come down with an awful cold shortly after. She was laying on the couch with a box of tissues on the coffee table and _Gilmore Girls_ playing on the TV when Killian had sat down next to her and started running his fingers through her hair. She had muttered _I'm sick and snotty_ and _I don't want you to catch it too_ before he got up and retrieved something from the kitchen. Emma's eyes were closed when he returned, and she didn't notice until she felt something tickling her nose. When she had opened her eyes to see what Killian could possibly be doing, her vision was obscured by mistletoe.

He had insisted on kissing her, and they both had to stay in bed the next day.

The third time, it was Christmas.

Or rather, barely Christmas. Henry was asleep on the couch, and Emma and Killian were sitting in front of the fireplace, sipping at hot chocolate and talking in low tones. The clock on the mantel had just struck twelve, and Emma waved her hand and gestured for Killian to look up with a smirk. He had chuckled at the sight of mistletoe and kissed her, whispering _Happy Christmas, Swan_ against her lips.


	4. Chapter 4

_And I know_  
><em>The scariest part is letting go<em>  
><em>'Cause love is a ghost you can't control<em>  
><em>I promise you the truth can't hurt us now<em>  
><em>So let the words slip out of your mouth<em>

_'Cause everyone has agreed that The Words by Christina Perri is the new CS anthem, and I felt like these lyrics applied with today's fic._

_Four Tragedies_

The day before Christmas Eve, Emma went to the store and didn't come home until it was almost eleven o'clock at night.

When Killian asked why, she had opened her mouth and closed it, tears immediately streaming down her face as she placed her keys on the kitchen counter. When she could finally get the words out, she had whispered, "I had to visit some people." He asked who, and she had tugged at the worn brown shoelace that was always wrapped around her wrist. Killian had dropped the subject, seeing how close to crying Emma was again, and she had silently thanked him with a kiss.

On Christmas Eve, Emma made Killian put on his coat, scarf, and hat, and they had piled into her Bug with Henry. She didn't say where they were going, and they didn't ask. The flowers sitting next to Henry in the back were explanation enough.

Emma sent Henry ahead once they reached the cemetery, handing him one of the bouquets and instructing him to lay it at the base of Neal's tombstone. She grabbed Killian's hand and led him to another grave.

"Graham was the sheriff when I arrived in town," she told him, placing the white lilies down. "He actually arrested me twice," Emma added, chuckling. "But then he started talking to me about how if I wanted to be here for Henry, I needed to plant some roots. He gave me the chance to by offering the deputy position to me."

Killian didn't speak. He wrapped his arm around Emma's shoulders and pulled her to him, his nose brushing against her hair as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"I think Graham was the first person to remember his life back in the Enchanted Forest. He believed everything about Henry's curse, even when I didn't. But he died before the curse was broken," Emma continued, her eyes fixed on the grass surrounding Graham's grave. "I could never bring myself to come here before, but I didn't think he should be forgotten so close to Christmas."

"I'm sorry, love," Killian breathed, holding her a little tighter. He proceeded to tell her about his brother Liam, about how he would be the one to comfort Killian when he had nightmares, how he had idolized him as they grew up, alone in the world but for each other. Killian spoke of their journey to Neverland and their discovery that their beloved king was corrupted. He told Emma about meeting Pan, the dreamshade, the cure. Liam's death. How after Liam died, he had turned to piracy, determined to fight back against the king who had taken his brother from him.

When Killian was done, Emma stood on her tip toes to kiss him before saying they should probably join Henry.

As they approached Neal's grave, they overheard Henry speaking.

"You should see her now, Dad. She'll always be a little sad, but I think you'd be happy for her. Killian makes her happy."

Emma will deny it, but Killian saw her eyes water.

"You know, lad, your father was quite the artist, just like you. He got it from his mother," Killian said, placing his hand on Henry's shoulder.

"Did you know her? My dad's mom?" Henry asked, looking back at Killian.

Killian took a deep breath and nodded. "Aye, I did."

The three of them stayed at the cemetery for a while, Killian regaling tales of his adventures with Milah and his short but cherished time with Neal. Together, Henry and Killian had managed to get Emma to tell them that the first time she had met Neal, she had broken into the car that he had originally stolen. (When they got back to the Bug, Emma could have sworn Henry looked at it and muttered _Sweet_ under his breath.)

Before they left, Emma stooped down in front of Neal's tombstone. She pressed a kiss to her hand and ran it along the engraving there.

"Merry Christmas, Neal."

She wrapped her arms around Killian and Henry, and Emma and Killian spent the rest of the night talking to Henry about the four people who had taught them to love.


	5. Chapter 5

_5 A.M. Hot Chocolate_

It was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung on the chimney with care, and Emma stood in the middle of it all, only able to stare.

She had waited until Henry had finally gone to sleep to wrap his last present, because the kid had a tendency to pick up any package addressed to him and shake it vigorously, and Emma doubted this present would last through that kind of handling.

For her entire life, Emma remembered every Christmas as just another day, only she was always a little more miserable. Sometimes, in the group homes, every kid would get a small, simple gift, but usually the older ones took the presents from those too young or weak to fight back. Emma hated going back to school after winter break because her classmates always asked her what she got for Christmas, and she either had to lie or tell them the truth and watch them slowly start to shut her out. Once, when she was in the second grade, a girl in Emma's class had heard that she hadn't gotten any presents, and the very next day, she brought one of her new dolls to school. The girl had said _I have a lot of old dolls. I don't need a new one_, and the two of them had played together during all of recess.

Emma wanted this Christmas to be different. Special, happy, full of love and laughter and everything Christmas ought to be.

It had to be perfect.

She finally went to bed, after much coaxing from Killian, and dozed for a few hours before she jolted awake. Emma managed to get out of bed without disturbing the sleeping pirate next to her, and snuck into the kitchen. She felt like a child, so excited at the prospect of Christmas, and as much as she wanted to wake Henry and Killian so they could officially start the day, she wanted a moment to herself to just take it all in.

There was something about being awake while the rest of the town was asleep and the sun wasn't even up. Emma could make out the blanket of snow that had coated Storybrooke overnight by the light of the Christmas tree, and decided that there was something truly magical about the holiday that had nothing to do with fairy dust.

Killian shuffled into the kitchen, eyes bleary with sleep. He took one look at Emma and a small, soft smile lit his face. "Hey, love. What are you doing out here so early? It's," he took one swift glance at the clock hanging on the wall, "barely five in the morning."

Emma cleared her throat and averted her eyes. "I guess I was a little excited," she admitted, oddly reminiscent of a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar.

Killian chuckled and came behind her, wrapping his arms around her as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. "You're worse than Henry." Emma opened her mouth to protest, but then Killian slipped away and started moving around the kitchen.

She ignored him, instead choosing to pay attention to the small details that made their apartment _theirs_. Killian's shoes were littered amongst hers and Henry's, there were books on sailing and marine biology on their coffee table and pictures of all three of them covering every space available. Emma couldn't help but smile when her eyes landed on their most recent photo, one of her and Killian wearing matching Santa hats, Henry in between them with a look of utter embarrassment. (He couldn't complain, because he was the one who had bought the hats for them.)

A mug was placed in front of Emma, and Killian waved a bottle of whipped cream in front of her nose.

"If we're going to be out of bed, we might as well have a treat, hm?"

She grinned at him, which he returned before carefully adding the whipped cream to first her hot chocolate and then his own. He added a dash of cinnamon to each of their cups from the Swan shaped pepper shaker and raised his mug to Emma.

"Merry Christmas, Swan."

(For every year after, Emma and Killian got up every Christmas morning at five, and made hot chocolate and sat in silence until the rest of Storybrooke started to wake.)


	6. Chapter 6

_Six Buttons_

There are some days that Killian surprises her with how much he has adapted to the modern world. It doesn't take much, just the sight of him texting David or Henry on his phone or going shopping for jeans with him. But others, she can tell how much he misses the sea, his ship, his old way of life. Those are the days when he becomes a little drawn, when he gets this far off look in his eyes, and Emma knows he's thinking about the Jolly Roger.

Those are also the days when Killian wears his pirate clothes. Just around the apartment, when they're not going anywhere and Henry isn't home. She doesn't say anything, because the first time he had seen her wearing her glasses (her contacts were on the bathroom counter, where she had left them), he hadn't commented, just smiled at her, kissed her, and asked her what movie she wanted to watch.

They're sitting in the living room, some mindless TV show playing. Emma's tucked neatly next to Killian, her head on his chest as she plays with the charms hanging around his neck. At first she doesn't think he's even wearing his old vest, but then she snorts with laughter.

"One…two…three…four…five…six," Emma counts. "What's the point of even wearing the vest if you have six of the buttons unbuttoned?"

Killian glances down at her and _pouts_. "Do you have a problem with it, Swan?"

Emma smirks up at him. "So what if I do?"

Later, when Henry lets himself in to the apartment, both Emma and Killian are passed out on the couch, limbs tangled, and the throw in a heap on the floor. He rolls his eyes, because really, his mom's like thirty two and Killian is _three hundred_ and two, and they should know better than to fall asleep in the living room at – Henry glances at his watch – five in the evening. He doesn't seem to notice that Emma's shirt is not on properly or that all of the buttons on Killian's vest are undone.


	7. Chapter 7

_Seven Wishes on a Star_

_One_

She was three years old, and had just been told that a family wanted to adopt her. When the stars lit the night sky, Emma sat under a window and wished as hard as she had ever wished before. _Please let them like me._

_Two_

Emma was starting at a new school, and she was tired of eating alone at lunch. She wanted friends, people who would invite her to play with them at recess and go to their house. Maybe if she became close enough friends with someone and their parents liked her too, she could get adopted for good this time. _Please let me make at least one friend._

_Three_

She was getting bullied. The kids in her class would talk behind her back about the way she dressed, how she never participated, the fact that she was in the foster system. She was getting tired. _Please give me the strength to get through this._

_Four_

Emma had finally made a friend. Sophie and Emma were almost complete opposites, Sophie all open and about fashion, Emma edgy and closed off. Still, they were practically inseparable. Sophie taught Emma how to braid hair and Emma taught Sophie how to fight back against the people who picked on her for being so girly. _Please let us stay friends._

_Five_

This foster father was abusive. He yelled at Emma and the other kids for things as silly as sitting in the living room, and Emma once saw him hit his wife. _Please get me out of here_.

She didn't wait for the star to grant her wish. She made it happen herself – she ran.

_Six_

They met in an extremely odd way. She had stolen his stolen car, and the only reason they became friends – if that was even the word for it – was because a cop had come along. But Emma had seen a kindred spirit in Neal, and despite herself, she started to trust him. _Please don't let him leave too._

He had, and for years, she hadn't wished upon a star again.

_Seven_

Emma was a bail bonds woman. She shouldn't have let what some jerk said get to her, but it did. She didn't know anything about family, only what books and movies on TV taught her growing up. She no longer believed that if she wished hard enough her wish would come true, but that didn't stop her from shutting her eyes tight and focusing on the blue star candle in front of her.

Now, as she's watching Killian open his Christmas present from Henry, a big, goofy grin on his face while her parents pass out other presents, her eyes start to water. Killian notices, of course, and quietly thanks Henry for the new clothes and books before coming over to where she is.

"What's wrong?" he asks, hand coming up to cup her face.

Emma smiles at him and shakes her head. "I'm just happy. My wish came true."

"What wish was that, sweetheart?"

Emma reaches up to cover Killian's hand with hers. "That I didn't have to be alone," she tells him, and his eyes light with understanding.

"Well, Swan, you don't have to worry about ever being alone again," Killian replies, bumping his nose with hers. "Come on, you have more presents to open."

Later, Emma glances out the window at the brightest star in the sky, and thinks _thank you_.


	8. Chapter 8

_Eight Types of Dessert_

Emma had been baking since noon on Christmas Eve. The kitchen sink was filled to the brim with mixing bowls, measuring cups, and whisks. Every time Killian or Henry tried to help, Emma told them _no it's fine, I've got it_ and they were left watching as she pulled pan after pan out of the oven.

When she was finally finished baking on Christmas day (both Henry and Killian sighed in relief) she started plating the desserts carefully. They were going to her parents' loft for dinner, the entire family, and Emma just felt like she should bring _something_, even though Mary Margaret would be cooking.

"Mom, I don't think you need to bring eight desserts over," Henry said, scratching his head in a way that was scarily reminiscent of Killian. "I'm pretty sure one is enough."

Emma paused, her hand in midair as she tried to put the finishing touches on everything. She shook her head and resumed her preparations, steadily avoiding looking at either of her boys. "I know, I know. I don't really know what everyone likes, though, so I figured it's better to be safe than sorry."

Killian whispered something in Henry's ear to make him go over and hug Emma before saying he'd meet them at the loft, Emma watching as he went, more than a little bemused. She sent Killian a questioning look. "What was that about?"

Killian arched an eyebrow and gestured to the smorgasbord of dessert in front of him. "What's all this about?"

"I already told you guys. I just don't know what everyone likes."

"But there's more to it than that," Killian replied, smiling sadly. "You can tell me, love. You can tell me anything."

"I know that," Emma said, clearing a few dishes out of the sink so she could wash the chocolate from her hands. "I guess I – I don't know, I feel like I should know if my mom is allergic to anything, or what my dad's favorite kind of dessert is, stuff like that. But I don't. I know what kind of people they are, what they believe in, but I don't know the mundane facts about them, and I should."

Killian sighed in understanding and walked over to Emma, pulling her to him. "Your relationship with your parents isn't ordinary, but it's still special. I know it's not exactly what you wanted, but they love you, and they're going to love whatever you make. Okay?"

Emma turned her head so she could look at Killian and nodded. "Okay," she whispered, smiling slightly. "Thank you."

Killian ended up helping Emma pick two desserts to bring over, and her parents loved both of them.


	9. Chapter 9

_Nine Pictures_

Emma isn't really sure when it became a thing, her and Killian and Henry taking pictures with each other whenever they got the chance. She thinks it maybe started when Henry explained to Killian what a photo was, or how to use the camera on his phone. After that, Killian takes pictures of Emma all the time, when she is doing the most mundane things and usually at extremely bad angles. She doesn't mind, though, especially when she notices how happy it makes him to be able to see her smile even if she isn't with him.

They all ignore when people stare as they take selfies at Granny's, or when one of the dwarves (usually Leroy – he isn't called Grumpy for no reason) rolls their eyes as they ask to have a picture taken of them. Emma's parents find it cute, Regina obnoxious, but that's to be expected.

Emma's favorite pictures are the ones where everyone is laughing. She doesn't like forced smiles, doesn't think they're genuine enough, especially if you're posing for a camera. Normally Killian and Henry make a deal where one of them gets her to laugh and the other takes the picture, but then she ends up pulling the one with the phone to her so that they can all be in the shot.

She knows that however much she loves these captured moments, Killian loves them more. Since she doesn't know what to get Killian for Christmas (what does someone even get a three hundred year old pirate?), she decides to make something a little more personal, and hopes more than anything that he doesn't hate it. (A big part of her knows that he'd never hate anything she gives him.)

Emma ends up buying Killian more things, clothes mostly, which she wraps and puts under the carefully decorated tree in the living room of their apartment. She can't decide whether to put the smallest gift in the stocking with a monogrammed _K_ or not, and does it on a whim. (Why have the stockings if there's nothing in them?)

She's a little nervous Christmas day, when Henry is tearing into his presents and Killian is watching him with so much adoration in his eyes that she feels like her heart could burst. She places her hand on Killian's arm and squeezes.

"Open this one next." Emma hands him the small package from inside his stocking and smiles, ignoring the voice inside her head saying _he won't like it_, the one that sometimes wakes her up at night, shaking and stuck with this feeling of being unwanted. Killian is always there to comfort her, just like he is now, with the soft press of his lips to her cheek and a whispered _I love you_ against her skin. (It used to scare her, but it doesn't, because being with him is just so easy and he makes everything better.)

Emma has discovered this annoying (or endearing, she can't figure out which) tick of Killian's where he doesn't rip wrapping paper, but unfolds it carefully. This present is no different, and she can't remember feeling as impatient as she does in this moment.

She doesn't miss the way Killian's eyes widen a bit at the sight of the collage staring back at him, eight random pictures of them together surrounding one of them with Henry in the middle. She breathes a sigh of relief when he grins, holding the frame up so that he can see it in the light. She smiles at him again, brighter, this time, and he leans over to kiss her forehead.

"It's perfect. Thank you, Swan."

"Thank _you_," Emma replies, kissing him swiftly before Henry can yell at them to stop being gross and open more presents.

Killian shows everyone the pictures at dinner, and even as Emma rolls her eyes, she doesn't mind. (He's proud of her and what they have, and so is she.)


	10. Chapter 10

_Ten Breaths_

Emma never knew that Christmas could be so exhausting, and she wasn't even the one hosting. There was just so much to _do_ – presents to buy and then wrap, a tree and apartment to decorate, desserts to bake and bring over to her parents' place. She didn't know that this magical holiday celebrated by people all across the world could be so much work, but she didn't really care, because seeing the big grins on Henry's face (and Killian's, and her mother's, and well, everybody's) made it so worth it.

That didn't stop her from almost falling asleep at Christmas dinner, though.

Killian bumped her knee under the table with his when he noticed her head nodding a bit, her eyes fluttering shut. She went beet red and straightened up, extremely grateful that no one else had noticed. She managed to make it through the rest of the night without another close call, mostly thanks to Killian, who would find some reason to nudge her or kiss her whenever the lull of sleep grew a little too strong.

When they finally got back to their apartment (Henry would be staying over at Regina's), it was barely past midnight. Killian guided Emma through the door, chuckling at the way she sagged against him, his arm around her waist the only thing keeping her upright.

"Did you have a good Christmas, love?" Killian asked, his forehead coming to rest on Emma's shoulder as she got ready for bed.

Despite how tired she was, Emma managed to beam at Killian. "The best." He smiled back at her, gentle and sweet, just like the kiss between them that followed.

"I'm glad," Killian said, kissing Emma on the nose before grabbing her hand and leading her to the bed. "I know how much you wanted everything to be perfect."

The smile Emma sent him in that moment was different from the last, more gratitude than anything as Killian pulled the covers up to her chin. She laughed a little, because she was thirty years old and someone was tucking her in, but in ten short breaths, she was fast asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

_11:11_

Emma knows that Henry misses his friends in New York, just like she misses the life they had there, but that doesn't stop her from getting annoyed when Henry checks his phone for what must be the tenth time in the past five minutes.

"Okay kid, seriously, I'm trying not to be _that_ parent, but it's Christmas Eve. We're playing Monopoly, your favorite game, and you're not even paying attention. I just built like five cottages and you have to get past all my properties," Emma says, frowning at her son, who smiles at her sheepishly.

"Sorry Mom. But hey, it's 11:09. You know what that means," Henry replies, his smile turning into a grin.

They had this tradition, back when they lived in the city, where they would make a wish whenever they were both awake at 11:11 PM. Emma knows that most of her memories with Henry are fake, but she wants to make this one real.

"What's so significant about the time?" Killian asks, eyebrows furrowing together as he tries to understand yet another modern superstition. He handled Christmas pretty well, more than eager to hang mistletoe in the loft and put presents under the tree, even if he didn't quite get why they needed to put tinsel everywhere, or what tinsel even was.

"If you make a wish at 11:11, it's supposed to come true," Henry explains, showing Killian his phone. "Mom and I used to do it back in New York. It's almost time – you should try it too."

If anything, Killian looks more confused than before. "I've nothing to wish for." He glances at Emma, and she pretends she doesn't notice his eyes on her or the meaning behind his words, but the blush tinging her cheeks gives her away.

Henry sees it too and rolls his eyes, but doesn't comment, and for that, Emma is grateful. "That's not the point, Killian. Just try it."

So the three of them making their individual wishes when the clock strikes 11:11. Henry's is for his mom to be happy, and so is Killian's, but Emma's isn't a wish at all – just a simple thank you.


	12. Chapter 12

Happy holidays, everyone!

_12 Kisses on Christmas_

He wakes her up with a kiss, several of them, actually, and she is too busy laughing and returning his kisses to process the fact that it is Christmas. When she realizes it, she all but leaps from the bed, narrowly avoiding knocking Killian over as she does so. It's his turn to laugh as his Swan grins at him and shouts _It's Christmas!_ (When they had gone shopping for ornaments, Emma had insisted that this holiday was Henry's favorite, which was why they had to go all out, but Killian got the feeling that it was really Emma who was truly excited about Christmas.)

He lets her drag him out of bed, feigning exhaustion and leaning on her heavily for good measure. She rolls her eyes at him, impatient as always, and starts pushing him towards the living room.

Henry's already there, still in his pajamas but wide awake. (He's only a morning person on Christmas.) He has a pile of presents addressed to him by the recliner, and two other piles ready for Emma and Killian.

Killian kisses her once, twice, three times, for each of the presents he opens from her.

When they're walking to Mary Margaret and David's place, Emma stops Killian in the middle of the street and tells him _Merry Christmas_. His eyes crinkle into a smile that she returns, and this time, she's the one who initiates the kiss.

(It's pretty much an unspoken rule between them that they don't kiss in front of her parents, mostly because Mary Margaret and David are affectionate enough for _everyone_, and the same group of people can only stand so much PDA.)

Emma makes it a point to kiss Killian when she knows Henry is looking, because the reactions Henry gives are always perfect. He gags and calls them disgusting, tells them to get a room – _wait no don't do that,_ but the big smile on his face betrays him every time.

They're lying in bed, Emma's arm flung across his chest and their legs tangled in each other, when Killian says, "Eleven times."

"Hm?" Emma hums, half asleep as her fingers catch in the charms around his neck.

"I've kissed you eleven times today," Killian explains, pulling the blankets a little higher so they cover Emma's shoulders. "Quite the odd number, don't you think?"

Emma chuckles and tilts her head back so she can look at him. "So let's make it twelve."

Killian laughs, the sound ringing clear in the still of the night, and it warms Emma from her head to her toes. "As you wish."


End file.
